


As Time Goes By

by Stonyinspirationwriter



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 15 year age gap, Age Difference, Arthritis, Denial, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear of Death, Feelings of Inadequacy, Fluff and Angst, Growing Old Together, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marriage, Old Age, Old Married Couple, Same-Sex Marriage, Superhusbands (Marvel), Tony Stark Feels, discussion of losing a spouse, feelings of sexual inadequacy, fifteen year age gap, implied child, seventy-six year old tony stark, sixty year old steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:43:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6618376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonyinspirationwriter/pseuds/Stonyinspirationwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony was fifteen years older than Steve. They weren’t supposed to get married. They should have never gotten together in the first place. They should have continued on their separate ways. Steve should have let go, but he didn’t. Tony should have let go, but he couldn’t. He also couldn’t be sorry for the wonderful life they had built together, and all the moments he had spent at Steve’s side. The real question was, though, was whether Steve could ever be prepared to let go of him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Time Goes By

**Author's Note:**

> I had gotten a prompt about two and a half years ago that requested "old Steve taking care of an older Tony", but I got stuck and had put it to the side for so long. Then recently this story took on a life of its own, and as a result I feel that it has taken on a mature subject that I believe only a few brave souls in this fandom have dared to venture before.

“Dammit Tony!” Steve growls, snatching the wet cat from Tony’s hands. “The cat’s dry enough!” Steve plopped the cat on the floor along with the towel Tony had wrapped around it. As soon as its paws touched the ground the cat sprinted out of the bathroom and dove under their bed.

“Why did you do that for!” Tony whines. “Now I’ll never get her from under there.”

“Forget about the cat, you’re the one that’s gonna catch pneumonia. C'mere!” Steve leads Tony into their connected bedroom; little puddles of water marking Tony’s steps.

Steve had pulled up to their driveway in time to catch Tony in the heavy rain, trying to coax a meowing stray kitten from underneath the front porch. The sweater he was wearing was uselessly unbuttoned, damp and clinging to his thin frame. He still wore his house slippers.

Tony was starting to shiver, water droplets dripping from his damp white hair and trailing down his face. Steve quickly rifled through their extensive closet, throwing a mismatched pair of pajamas on the bed.

“Strip”, Steve orders. _“Now.”_

Before Tony could even begin to undress himself, Steve’s already pulling at the damped sweater.” I can do that”, Tony huffs, futilely batting at Steve’s hands as the material is tugged off of his head. Ignoring his husband, Steve forces him on the bed and precedes to pull off the wet pants, which is soon followed by his underwear and socks. “Steve–!” Tony protests. Especially in his old age, there wasn’t anything Tony currently despised more than being manhandled (outside of sex). “I’m not an invalid!”

“Stop it.” Steve warns, grabbing one large and one small dry towel from the bathroom. He wraps the larger towel around his husband’s frail form as he uses the other to dry off every other part of his body. He quickly guides the soft fabric against Tony’s chest; no longer toned, but appearing as though it had sunk under the weight of the arc reactor. Steve quickly passes the soft fabric over bony shoulders, down his back, his sides, against every age spot, wrinkle, and mole. Tony was still too thin for Steve’s comfort—ribs far too prominent–but every attempt he had made to bait Tony with savory food hadn’t succeeded in fully replenishing his faltering appetite.

Once he was satisfied that Tony’s body was dry, Steve threw the towel over Tony’s head and swiftly massaged the excess water from his hair, ignoring Tony’s grumbles of protest. Then Steve advances toward him, holding out the new underwear he had selected along with the pajamas he placed on the bed. “I could do it myself!” Tony yells, slapping his arm away. “You’re dressing me now?! Who do you think I am!?”

“The kind of man who would risk catching pneumonia for a cat!”

“What, you wanted me to just leave her out in the rain?”

“You could have told me— “

“No!” Tony roars. “Don’t you do that! Don’t you dare treat me like a child! I don’t need your permission to go outside, and I can fuckin dress myself.”

“If I let you, then you will die from hypothermia trying to button yourself!”

In that moment Steve saw the fire in Tony’s eyes being smoldered by his words, leaving nothing but ashes. Tony stiffened, and the fight left his body. Tony lowered his head in surrender.

It was a low blow. The arthritic pain in Tony’s hands sometimes made the most mundane tasks difficult. As of recently, Tony rarely entered his workshop, and when he did it was only to act as guidance to someone else.

The last time Steve had caught Tony in his workshop would forever be branded into his memory: Tony slumped in his chair, catatonic while his eyes were fixated on the last suit he had invented. An inventor needed his hands. Take away his hands and you kill the inventor.

Steve immediately hated himself for having said it, but the prevailing matter was getting him dressed and warmed before his body succumbed to pneumonia. Getting sick at Tony’s age could be fatal. Steve couldn’t let that happen.

Tony stood stoic as Steve dressed him; eyes blank and body like an automaton as he uses Steve for support. Once he was dressed, Steve led him to their bed, tossing his own damp shirt to the side and pulls the covers over the both of them. With his husband’s back to him, Steve presses against him to warm him with his body heat.

“I’m sorry”, Steve murmurs to the back of Tony’s head. “You know I love you.” Tony keeps silent and continues to remain stiff in Steve’s arms. It’s not until Tony finally falls asleep that his muscles relax. Steve doesn’t sleep.

* * * * * * * * *

Tony remembers watching as their once healthy, energetic family dog slowly deteriorate under the effects of aging. Dogs naturally have a significantly shorter life span—common knowledge–but like any other loving dog owner, he had been in denial. And somehow, throughout the painful, degrading process, she had retained the same vivacious personality. Even when she could no longer go on her walks with Steve, or run around their extensive backyard, her spirit never burned out. There was no hint of anger or frustration. No sadness or loss of what she could no longer do.

He had spent thousands of dollars on the dog to preserve her life until the day came where he realized the selfishness and cruelty of his actions. She was exhausted. She was in pain. The time had come where they had to finally let her go.

It had been better this way. To go painlessly. To go with dignity. Tony remembered thinking how inhuman it was that humans were forced to live with the extreme consequences of age while animals could be spared. Animals don’t have the ability to fully comprehend the present, fret over the past, or rage at the future; they’re lucky in that sense. And even if life did irreparably render their bodies incapable, they were always granted a release.

Tony was now seventy-six years old. His mind for the most part was still as sharp as a tack. Sure, he did sometimes forget little things, but he had been accused of being absent minded even in his twenties: selective memory, as Pepper had called it. His body, on the other hand, had continued to fail him. Arthritic fingers made it difficult to build. The arc reactor, which used to be a constant, but bearable discomfort, now felt like a knife that was infinitely carving away at his chest. I had become a black hole that sucked him in from the inside, causing his body to slowly collapse in on itself.

Tony had given up his playboy status in his late 30’s, and along with that went the heavy partying and drugs; it took a few years longer to stop the excessive drinking. Since then he’d done the best to take care of himself: exercise, eat healthy, take vitamins, wear sunscreen. It had done some good, for the most part, as it had allowed him to chase after his daughter in his late fifties, and keep up with a super soldier husband for as long as possible. He hadn’t aged badly, either, much better than the average male, actually. So all things considered, he was able to evade the major hardships age brought– for a while, at least. Tony Stark, being the genius he is, should have known better.

He was married to a gorgeous and insanely fit super soldier husband with the sex drive of a twenty year old that Tony could no longer satisfy. Up until a few years prior, Tony had prided himself in adequately matching Steve’s pace. In terms of getting it up, Tony, thankfully, had yet to experience problems in that department. The problem was that Tony’s body had grown frail with age and past injury’s. When they had sex it was painstakingly slow due to his old and decrepit form; no longer as adventurous, rough, or as fast as it once had been. And Steve, always playing the part of the loving husband, wore a mask of patience to hide any frustration.

Even at sixty Steve was still the most beautiful man Tony had ever laid eyes on. Age had barely grazed him, so far leaving behind only a few wrinkles, as well as a peppering of gray near his temples that only added to his distinguishability. It was the Super Soldier serum, or perhaps genetics also played a part. Whatever it was, it had caused Steve to age significantly slower than any normal human being. The oldest he could believably stretch his age to was mid-forties—younger if he shaved the neat beard he had been sporting for a few years now; the very beard he had grown with the sole purpose of looking older, although he’d never admit it.

Tony had warned Steve that this would happen. He was fifteen years older than him. They weren’t supposed to get married. They should have never gotten together in the first place. They should have continued on their separate ways. Steve should have let go, but he didn’t. Tony should have let go, but he couldn’t. He also couldn’t be sorry for the wonderful life they had built together, and all the moments he had spent at Steve’s side. The real question was, though, was whether Steve could ever be prepared to let go of him.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Thanks, Lucy.” Steve says, moving his silverware to the side in order to make room for the two bowls of soup.

“No problem, honey”, Lucy replies in her usual raspy voice. Her currently dyed platinum blonde hair is pinned up high on her head, and the shocking eye makeup color of the day is neon purple.

Lucy has always been Tony’s favorite waitress, ever since the very first time they had stepped through those doors all those years before. They had arrived just in time to witness her telling off a man that had made a lewd comment at one of the younger waitresses. The guy hurried past them as Lucy chased him out the doors to the sound of applause from all the customers. “No manners”, she had huffed.

“Tony! Lucy exclaims, her bright red lips forming an o. Tony pauses amidst taking off his jacket. “If you get any thinner you’re going to disappear. Is he not feeding you?” Lucy gestures to Steve.

“I’ve been trying”, Steve says. “Maybe you can convince him to eat.”

“I am eating!” Tony insists.

“Listen here”, Lucy warns. “You eat every bite or I’m gonna have to shove it down your throat.” Lucy shakes a spoon at him to demonstrate her point, and then drops it in his soup and walks away.

“Now I’m going to get a spoon shoved down my throat.” Tony mutters. The small bowl of vegetable beef soup suddenly resembled a comically huge bowl that contained an endless supply of broth.

“Not if you eat.” Steve is intently watching him as though he is waiting to perform a magic trick.

“You won’t be happy until I’m so fat that I won’t be able to move.” Tony moves the broth and vegetables around with his spoon, waiting for it to cool. “It’ll be easier to keep me prisoner.”

Steve roll his eyes, not bothering to look back at him. He scoops up a spoonful of vegetables and lightly blows on the hot liquid before placing the spoon to his lips. They eat in silence for a while; Steve continuously depositing spoonfuls of soup into his mouth while Tony slowly sipped the broth and nibbled on the vegetables.

Tony had managed to eat most of it by the time Lucy came to collect the bowls. She must have been satisfied, or if she wasn’t she luckily refrained from remarking.

“Your hands hurt”, Steve states, his voice empathetic. Tony turns his head to see that Steve’s brow was furrowed and he was staring at Tony’s raised hand. He had been watching as Tony was performing some of the hand experiences the doctor had shown him to ease the arthritic pain. “It’s the cold. We should have stayed home.”

“Steve, it’s fine.” Tony tells him, not in the least bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone. He hated when Steve flustered over him, and he had been doing it a lot more

Steve sighs, turning his attention to something else in the restaurant; Tony follows his gaze. The restaurant was commonly slow on a Tuesday night, but among the pockets of usual customers was a large party of people that had to have two tables pushed together in order to fit them all. They appeared to be a large family, perhaps a sort of gathering with visiting relatives, or something along those lines. The Avengers have yearly gatherings also, but no longer as big as an event as it once was—not with most of the kids all grown and busy with their own lives.The family’s excited chatter fills the stale dining room with life. It’s not the obnoxious type of chatter that people have to yell to be heard over, but the kind of chatter that represents family. Represents life.

A little boy with dark hair and tanned skin, not more than one or two years old, has managed to crawl from under the table without being noticed. He stands on wobbly legs, surveying the room before his big brown eyes fall on Steve and Tony’s table. They both smile and give the child a little wave in which the boy returns with a bashful but pleased grin. Then with slow but tentative steps, the child begins to make his way towards their table. He’s nearly there when the assumed mother notices him. “Joseph!” She scolds in a Spanish accent. “I’m sorry”, she apologizes to them, taking the little boy by the hand.

“That’s alright, ma’am.” Steve reassures her. “He’s not bothering us.”

The woman then raises her head and for the first time she gets a good look at the two men. Her eyes immediately widen in recognition. “Oh!” She gasps. She covers her mouth in embarrassment and she blushes.

“How old is your little boy?” Tony asks.

“Two, Three in two months.”

“That’s a fun age”, Tony says fondly. “Also terrible at the same time.”

The woman smiles, clearly more relaxed now. She looks at her son and gives an incredulous shake of her head. “Ooo…he crazy.” They laugh. “Well”, she says, “thank you.” She turns to her son, who has had his large brown eyes fixated on the two men all this time. “Vamonous, mio. Leave these nice men alone.” She gives his hand a little tug but he refuses to budge. He points to them, making little sounds as he tries to convey that he knows that Captain America and Iron Man are sitting at that table. “Joseph, ven!” She says sternly, scooping him up in her arms and carrying him back to their table. Over her shoulder, he continues to point at them, making insistent grunting noises.

“You remember that age?” Tony asks, watching as the little boy is placed in the high chair.

“How could I forget?” Steve rolls his eyes in jest, and then smiles fondly.

“Things were so different then”, Tony murmurs.

The people at the table are taking obvious peeks at them, whispering excitedly about Iron Man and Captain America. The woman loudly shushes them, followed by something in Spanish that sounds like a threat, which immediately causes everyone to simultaneously turn away.

Lucy then comes back carrying two plates and deposits each in front of them. “No grandbabies yet?” She asks without preamble.

“No, not anytime soon.” Steve tells her.

“Lacey’s baby is nearly 23 weeks already”, Lucy offers. ‘Damn, can you imagine that? I gotta tell ya, boys, being a grandmama is the ultimate blessing. You just wait ‘til you have grandbabies of your own.” She sighs fondly. Then she adds, “Which is why you gotta stay healthy and strong by eating.” She directs an accusatory glances at Tony. “Anyway, can I getcha anything else?”

* * * * * * * * *

“So, I’ve been thinking…”

Steve found Tony situated in the living seated on the recliner. Cat on his lap, glasses on, his face scrunched up in concentration as he read from his Stark Pad.

“Careful with that’, Tony remarks, taking a beat before turning off the tablet.

‘Very funny’, Steve said dryly, taking a seat on the couch. “I was thinking of quitting the Avengers. For good.”

Tony scrutinizes him for a moment before putting his tablet to the side and removing his glasses. “Retire?” He asks, eyeing him suspiciously. “From what part, exactly?”

“Training, combat, everything.”

Steve had given this a lot of thought. He had helped establish The Avengers, played a part in shaping what it was today. He had risen up the ranks to General. Trained the future generation of Avengers. As much anxiety as it gave him, Steve knew that retiring was the selfless thing to do. He felt this inexplicable sense of urgency to do this for Tony as soon as possible.

“Steve”, Tony says, rubbing his eyes and suddenly sounding very tired. “Darling. I appreciate what you are trying to do but it’s completely unnecessary. You’ve already sacrificed enough.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve couldn’t help the defensive tone in his voice.

“You’ve already taken yourself out of combat. That’s hard enough on you.”

“I’m still backup.”

“You’ll go insane.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t. I didn’t even fully retire until not too long ago. You’re still young.”

“I am not young…’

“Your body is.”

‘Why are you so opposed?”

“Because it’s ridiculous.”

Steve paused once the realization to his husband’s opposition finally dawned on him. He should have seen it coming. It was bound to happen. One of his fears had come to fruition and it felt like a punch to the gut. “You don’t want me around.”

“What?” Tony blinks. Clearly surprised that Steve had managed to back him in a corner.

“Stop running around the issue”, Steve demands. “Just say it. You’re the only one that will go insane if I retire.”

“You are way off.”

“It’s no secret that I’ve been getting on your nerves lately”, Steve says matter-of-factly in order to cover up the hurt he was feeling.

“I never said—“

“You didn’t have to", Steve says, getting up. “Fine. I won’t retire.”

“Okay”, Tony says, exasperated. He rises from his chair. “You want the truth?” Steve stands in wait with his arms crossed at his chest as he anticipates the beginning of an argument. “Okay, here it is: There’s a very high probability that I will be dying first, perhaps sooner than later.” Steve raises his eyebrows. “You, however, still have many years ahead of you, even after I’m gone. You still have so much to give, and I don’t want to become the object of your resentment.”

Steve stays silent as his mind slowly processes the information. It was something he was aware of but kept dormant in the back of his mind; refusing to allow himself to fully acknowledge the inevitably of the situation. Hearing Tony so blatantly say it made it all undeniably true.

Steve shook his head. “No”, seemed to be the only thing he could manage to utter. He himself was unclear to what he exactly was opposing.

“Don’t stop living because of me”, Tony says somberly.

“Shut up”, Steve says. His hands are on his hips and he is shuffling in place. “Please. Just shut up.” Steve then stops shuffling and looks him directly in the eye. “You are my life.”

Tony shook his head. A tear runs down his cheek.“I can’t be.” Steve strides up to him, takes Tony’s face in his hands, and kisses him. Steve breaks apart for a moment to look into Tony’s eyes before continuously kissing him. Tony reciprocates, tears streaming down his face and intermingling with their kiss.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tony trembled. His breath hitching, his fingers pressing into Steve’s back as Steve slowly eased in and out of him; exercising his control.

_“I want you.” Steve had insisted when Tony had finally voiced his concerns about his feelings of inadequacy in the bedroom. “I thought you had lost interest in sex.”_

_“I’m not dead yet!” Tony had protested._

Neither payed mind to the stealthy cat perched on their dresser watching them with curiosity.

Their eyes meet and neither breaks contact even as the euphoric pressure builds within them. Tony didn’t want to be the first to come, so he tries his best to hold on, but the pressure becomes unbearable and he is forced to release it with a gasp.

Steve thankfully finishes soon after, and they lay in silence for a while with Steve’s face pressed against Tony’s stomach and Tony gingerly running his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“Steve?” Tony says after a while. Steve hums without lifting his head. “I’ll understand if you need someone else”’, Tony continues. “After I’m gone. Or even now. I don’t want to know about it, but I understand if you need someone else to fulfill your needs.”

Steve lifts his head. “Do you remember this?” He holds up his left hand and the arc reactor in Tony’s chest illuminates the wedding band on his finger. “I take my vows seriously. Do you remember how long it took us to get to a place where we could make our relationship work? We’ve dragged each other through hell and back. People were probably right when they said we should just let each other go, but we didn’t. Now look where we are today: married twenty-five years. I don’t know about you but in my book that means something.”

“It does to me too”, Tony agrees. “But I’m thinking ahead, Steve. I’m a futurist. I’m thinking about your well-being”.

“Maybe you don’t know what that is”, Steve says tersely. “Leave it alone.”

Steve was irritatingly stubborn to the point where Tony sometimes wanted to scream. Tony knew Steve wouldn’t give in tonight, so he decided it was best to let it go for the moment. After a beat of silence, though, Tony adds, “I’m still the genius you know.”

“You’re an ornery, stubborn, crazy old man”, Steve says petulantly, the furrow in his brow making him seen childlike.

“Oh, I’m the crazy old man?”

“Yes.”

“Said the fossil.”

“Well”, Steve smiles bemusedly. “You love this fossil.”

“And you inexplicably love this crazy old man.”

There was no harm in allowing themselves to enjoy this time together. This discussion can be put on hold for now. They’ve made it through twenty-five years, so for now it could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Non-explicitly takes place in the Ava Stark-Rogers universe. Those who aren't familiar with this verse do not need to pay any mind, but those that are avid readers of this verse should be aware that the events of this story will eventually impact the series.


End file.
